You want to learn to dance the tango. The only person around who can possibly teach you is confined to a wheelchair

but he’s game, so you lower the arm on the record player and start counting. Apparently the whole first lesson will be like this, counting while Nathan bangs out the rhythm with a broomstick.

Once you prove you can feel the beat he’ll start drawing the steps on the blackboard and narrating your every move. Sweat pours down his wrinkled brow in almost the same volume as soaks your shirt.

Sometimes you think Nathan is more nervous about your audition that you are.